


Unseen, Unnoticed

by Ryu_Reikai_Akuma



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Photography, Secret Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 11:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18603670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma/pseuds/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma
Summary: Roger never saw what Brian saw.





	Unseen, Unnoticed

**Author's Note:**

> I probably should've posted this earlier because as I edited it, I started to second-guess myself and my English. Oh, well. This fic is mostly inspired by [that one picture](https://scontent-amt2-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/3cbad6bf24096462915f315ad5a95502/5D34509B/t51.2885-15/e35/c150.0.501.501/51283652_1444576062345544_8368682346329723531_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-amt2-1.cdninstagram.com) of Brian taking pictures of the others near the pool in Ridge Farm and fueled by that one interview where he said he once tested a new lens by taking pictures of Roger while he was getting ready for a performance. Every time I see a picture of Queen when Brian is absent, I always wonder if he was the one taking it. I really need to get my poor hands of Queen in 3D.

The studio was still empty when Brian got there, even though he was more than a few minutes late. Shrugging, he sat down and began to tune his guitar. This wasn’t unusual, considering the habit of two of his band mates. Roger wasn’t so bad before, but living with Freddie had made him late more often and no amount of complaining and scolding seemed to have any effect. Now, Brian was simply resigned and tried to take to heart Roger’s laughing advice to be more relaxed and enjoy himself. It was a strange advice coming from someone who was as invested in being a rock star as Roger was, but Brian saw the wisdom in it (he did work himself to the point of exhaustion and stress too often) and heeded it, although not without some arguments. He and Roger were too different to go for a length of time without disagreeing on one thing or another, but he had come a long way since thinking that it meant they couldn’t get along at all. In quieter times and with a clearer mind (because Roger _could_ be infuriating), Brian could see that Roger was merely trying to be helpful and caring in his own way. It wasn’t necessarily the way Brian preferred, but he had developed some fondness for it: the affection underneath the prideful packaging and the young man who hid compassion behind indifference.

Brian’s eyes drifted to his bag even as he continued tuning his guitar. He debated with himself for a moment, but finally put away his now-tuned guitar and picked an envelope from inside the bag. He reached inside the envelope carefully, as if he was handling something precious—and in a way, he was. He smiled at the sight of freshly developed photos he had looked forward to showing his friends. They were mostly of the four of them (well, three, because someone, usually Brian, had to take the pictures), although there were a few odd ones of Brian himself, beautiful views and lovely animals. He set those aside, knowing that his friends wouldn’t be as interested in those as they were in pictures of themselves. It didn’t bother Brian, since he loved those pictures just as much as they did.

There were moments captured before and after performances, when they were building personas to display on stage and when they were discarding said personas to return to themselves. Some were taken during practices such as this one, when they were less of performers and more of themselves. Brian studied pictures of Freddie, Roger, and John lost in music, their expressions could only be described as enraptured with the exception of John, who preferred expressing his elation with motions Brian couldn’t catch quite right with his camera. He couldn’t remember whose song they were playing in every photo, but he still felt a surge of pride and happiness when he thought that he contributed to it nonetheless, that he was a part of the band that made songs that made them react that way. Some people didn’t like their music, but others did and, most importantly, _they_ did. These pictures proved that and Brian was satisfied with it.

Other photos were taken during more private moments. There were some taken when they were about the town to ease their boredom. These were pictures taken in familiar streets, buildings, and parks where there was guaranteed good lighting for photography. Others were taken indoors with slightly more limited light. Brian easily recognized his own flat, where books were pushed aside to make way for an ashtray, bottles of beer, and snacks. A handful were taken at John’s flat, where they behaved more thoughtfully to help their youngest and newest member fit in. Brian looked at those for a long time, thinking he could probably arrange them chronologically based on how increasingly easy John acted around them. Freddie and Roger did a very good job at making John feel belong, something a small part of Brian was envious of. Quickly, he turned to the rest of the photos–his favorites–before the envy could take root. He chuckled at the sight of them. There was no shortage of fun to be had in Freddie and Roger’s flat. There was always some form of entertainment, even when those two had very little to eat. A few pictures showed them dressed up in Freddie’s clothes after he had impulsively declared wanting to improve their styles. Naturally, the clothes were ridiculously small on Brian’s larger frame, outrageously wild on John, and perfectly gorgeous on Roger.

Few things weren’t gorgeous on Roger, Brian thought as he smiled at a picture of Roger’s attempt at seducing the camera while dressed in one of the most ridiculous outfits Brian had ever seen. Somehow the seduction worked, although maybe not in the way he intended. There was something irresistibly charming about the young man dressed in loud colors and strange clothes. Even dressed down in old shirt and jeans, frowning at a board of scrabble in front of him, he managed to look good. It was one of the rare times Roger wasn’t paying attention to the camera, completely focused on winning the silly game. Most of the time, he tried to draw attention to himself by doing silly poses or getting between the camera and its intended objects. It annoyed Brian sometimes, but he couldn’t deny that Roger made a good model (even if he sometimes couldn’t keep his eyes open when being photographed). Cameras liked him, or at least Brian’s cameras did. Brian certainly did.

A sense of wistfulness overcame him for a moment. Brian idly caressed a group photo where Roger somehow managed to become the focus even though Freddie and John were stood in front of him. He gave the camera his usual smile, boyish and wicked at the same time, his soft blue eyes twinkling with mischief. The fascinating contradiction, only one among many, was impossible to ignore. Brian should know. He had tried and found himself drawn close over and over again. Once he had been upset and even tried to pin the blame on Roger, but now he was content to simply be near, to watch, to listen, to be a friend, to dream, to enjoy these pictures when no one was else around. In the past, he had been afraid the photos would give him away because to him the infatuation was plain to see, so he had hidden them. But, now he knew no one saw anything but nice funny photos of a group of good friends, not even Roger, who laughed at his own silliness or made fun of the others. He didn’t notice how many pictures Brian had taken were of him and how many were focused on him. He didn’t notice how Brian watched him, how he couldn’t resist him. He didn’t notice anything but a good friend taking pictures of him and their band.

It hurt a little, but Brian had become an expert in patching up these little wounds in his heart. He took a deep breath and turned his attention instead on how happy his friends appeared and how happy it made him to be with them, performing or otherwise. It was enough, he told himself decisively. It _had_ to be enough. These things shouldn’t be forced. If Roger wanted him as a friend, Brian would be a friend for him. It wasn’t as if it was a chore, after all. Brian did like being his friend, being there to argue with him, support him, make fun of him, and care for him. Brian shoved aside his discontent for nth time and tidied up the pictures, ready to return to his beloved guitar. He looked up when the door opened suddenly to reveal a slightly frazzled John.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said in a breathless greeting. He looked around the room and, realizing that only Brian was there, relaxed a fraction. “I was sure I’d be the last to arrive.”

Brian huffed, shaking his head. “It’s not possible to be later than Freddie.”

John laughed quietly (and perhaps a little nervously). He was putting down his bass when he noticed the pictures Brian was carefully arranging. “Are those your new photos?”

“They are.” Brian looked up and found John’s slightly anxious face as he looked at the pictures. He smiled. “Do you want to see them? There are a few pictures of you.”

John only hesitated a moment before curiosity got the better of him and he sat across Brian to look at the photos. Unlike Roger and Freddie, John was quiet except for small giggles when he saw particularly silly pictures. Brian didn’t mind, content to see that his pictures made someone smile and laugh. He picked up his guitar again and strummed it absently while watching John. It was almost as exhilarating as being on stage while a crowd cheered and shouted their songs and names, only much quieter. But, a quiet audience of one had its advantages. This way, Brian could see every reaction individually rather than having many reactions blending into one almost indecipherable screaming. He could see which pictures drew the most interest and which were spared cursory glance. He noticed that John was least interested in pictures of himself alone, but lingered on those that showed him with Roger and Freddie. Brian wasn’t too disappointed, knowing his friend’s modesty. Not everyone was as attentive to their image as Roger and Freddie were, after all.

Watching John closely, Brian therefore noticed a change in his expression from amused to curious. At first, he didn’t think much of it, but then he noted that John was looking at the group pictures that featured Roger as the focal point, those Brian had admired just before he arrived. His fingers nearly faltered on the strings as a cold burst of panic suddenly hit him. His first instinct was to snatch those pictures away and hide them where no one would see them, but that would only raise suspicion. Brian forced himself to keep playing although he could feel his fingers becoming unsteady with nerves. When John finally looked up from the pictures, Brian didn’t feel much better to find thoughtfulness in his face. It was a struggle to maintain eye contact, but Brian managed, although he couldn’t tell what kind of expression he had at the moment and could only hope he didn’t look half as nervous as he really felt.

“Roger is a fascinating subject, isn’t he?” John began slowly. His tone was so mild that if Brian hadn’t watched him closely, he wouldn’t have suspected a thing.

“He is. He makes interesting faces and poses for the camera,” Brian said in what he hoped was a neutral tone.

John nodded, looking at the pictures again. “I can see that. You’ve taken many nice pictures of him here.” He paused as he obviously tried to pick his words carefully. “You always do, I think.”

Brian froze. “I…” he started, intending to lie.

However, the words wouldn’t come out. He didn’t know why. He knew he should for himself, for Roger, for all of them. But, the lies wouldn’t come. Brian would blame it on himself being a shit actor, but he knew it was something else. After so many years of being unnoticed, there was a part of him that was glad to finally be seen, even though not by the person he wanted. There was some relief in knowing he didn’t have to lie quite as much an as often, at least in front of John. Full relief would only come with being discovered by Roger, but, honestly, what would he do if Roger realized this? That could ruin everything- _would_ ruin everything. Brian knew it wasn’t his place to ask for anything, but he would very much like to still have Roger as a good friend. He wanted to spend time with him, play music with him, joke with him, take more photos of him without the strangeness and awkwardness that known unrequited feelings were bound to bring about. It was better to be found out by someone else.

Brian sighed, looked down to his guitar, and played a hollow tune. He could feel John looking at him, but didn’t lift his head. It was neither shame nor fear. It was just that being seen for who he really was for the first time was a difficult experience. He was suddenly very self-conscious, very aware of himself and how easily he could be hurt. He wondered about those who live in full honesty, who dared show the world who they really were regardless of the risks and consequences. Maybe one day he would be able to live like them, but not today, not yet. Now, Brian braced himself despite knowing John wouldn’t harm him. He felt smaller and more vulnerable than he had felt in years, a feeling he knew was insensible, but couldn’t quite shake off.

“Does he know?”

Brian glanced up to John. When he saw nothing but kind concern, he began to relax. Some people wouldn't react well to such revelation, but John was not one of them. “No and I don’t intend to change that,” he said quietly, smiling slightly at the hopelessness of his situation. There was a familiar ache in his chest when he thought of it, but he dismissed it just as he had dismissed it millions of times before when Roger failed to see that his attention and actions were motivated by more than friendly affection, when Roger returned his quiet gestures of love and longing with oblivious laughter and innocent friendship, when Roger turned his love and passion to music and pretty girls and never Brian.

John began to frown, but before he could say anything, the door to the studio burst open to admit their two missing members. Freddie led the way, greeting them and apologizing with unapologetic drawl that Brian could only shake his head at. Behind him, Roger walked in with a cheeky smile and bright eyes. He was wearing a hideous combination of improbable colors, but to Brian he still brightened the room, still made the day seem better, still made his heart swell in his chest with overwhelming love and adoration. Roger didn’t know this, of course. He gave Brian the same smile he gave John and Freddie and all his other friends. His attention flitted to the drum when Brian’s lingered on him. He laughed easily with Freddie when Brian silently fought to restrain the affection that almost made him burst at the seams. Roger didn’t see anything and Brian had since long ago gotten used to swallowing his heavy disappointment.

“Are those your latest photos, dear?” Freddie asked, noticing the pictures spread between Brian and John.

This instantly piqued Roger’s interest. “Oh! Let me see them!”

Without asking and with easy familiarity, he sat down beside Brian and pulled the pictures to himself. The closeness wasn’t unusual–they all did it with one another when feeling particularly touchy. But, what was to Roger a mundane sign of a long friendship was a lot more to Brian. His fingers itched to touch, so he concentrated on playing random tunes while Roger inspected the photos beside him. Roger laughed and made comments about them before passing them on to Freddie, who gladly offered his own opinions. Never once he paused to think, never once he noticed how he was the focal point of many of them, just as he had been the focal point of many others before these particular set of pictures. He only saw a group of friends enjoying themselves together, just like when he looked at Brian’s camera and saw nothing more than a friend with a love for photography instead of for him.

“You could be a professional photographer, dear,” Freddie commented not for the first time as he looked at the photos. “In fact, if you didn’t play the guitar so well, I would have you as our official band photographer!”

“Ha! That certainly would make us argue less!” Roger exclaimed.

Freddie lightly smacked Roger’s arm with the back of his hand. “Make _you_ and him argue less. John and I don’t argue with Brian half as often or as loud as you do!”

Roger rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. “Would be great to not fight all the time.”

Before Brian could worry about what it might mean, Roger nudged his arm and threw him an impish smile over his shoulder that said everything. They might argue the most in the band and their disagreements weren’t always pretty (or quiet), but that didn’t mean Roger wanted him gone. Roger wanted him to stay, stubborn perfectionism and perplexing obsession with space and all. He wanted them to keep performing together, making music together, enjoying themselves together, even arguing with each other. And although it wasn’t exactly what Brian felt about Roger, it was close enough, and in the end he couldn’t disagree, smiling back to Roger. If a friendship with Roger was all he could have, he would take it happily.

After a few minutes more of looking at the pictures and making ridiculous plans for Brian to photograph them again, Roger rose. “Can we start now? I’ve got a date in a few hours!” he announced, prompting Freddie to good-naturedly tease him.

John looked at Brian sharply, but Brian just smiled and shrugged. He gave no indication of being affected as they practiced familiar songs and refined newer ones because he was _not_ affected. Brian was used to it. This wasn’t the first time Roger announced that he had a date and it wouldn’t be the last. There were more than enough people who were attracted to him, most of whom Brian couldn’t compete with for various reasons. He didn’t ruminate on the thought. It was much easier to keep from completely breaking his heart when he ignored how little chance he had with Roger, when he expected nothing but continued misunderstanding that he wanted to be nothing more than Roger’s good friend.

Later, they parted ways. Freddie and John looked quietly pleased and a little tired, but Roger was beaming and fidgeting with excitement. Brian spared a moment to wish he was the cause of the enthusiasm before he firmly reminded himself of his place. He wished Roger good luck and turned around to walk back to his flat. His steps weren’t heavy, although they weren’t light, either. His thoughts alternated between the unknown universe and Roger, two things that made him happy and he coveted but would never truly reach. If he was hurt, the pain was imperceptible and dull. Whatever remained of it was eased by looking at the pictures again later in his flat, lightly caressing those that featured Roger’s unsuspecting face now that there was no one to see him indulging himself. Brian smiled at what he decided what his most favorite one, a picture taken of an unguarded moment when Roger wasn’t posing for effect for the camera. He wasn’t wearing one of his nice clothes, but a well-worn comfortable t-shirt. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open as if he hadn’t expected to be photographed, maybe because he was too engrossed in the book in his hands. There was no pretension there. This was Roger as himself, not the performer or the famed lover. It was just the young man Brian had known for years and fell deeply for slowly but inexorably. And Brian fancied that at that moment, Roger wasn’t looking at the camera or a hypothetical viewer of the resulting photograph, but the man behind the device: Brian and only Brian.

Brian looked at that picture for a long time, then, slowly, tremblingly, brought it to his lips to kiss lightly. The material was cold and nothing at all like Roger in real life, but it was all he could have and so it must be enough. Sighing, Brian carefully put the pictures away in a box along with other precious pictures he had taken before. He then spent the rest of the night studying his textbooks, planning his thesis, and dreaming about space, only sparing a few minutes to think about Roger and his date. If he tried hard enough, he could almost believe that he was completely and fully happy with his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Not every story has a happy ending. I should know. Ha.
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/).


End file.
